The Beginning of Good Things
by Kallie49
Summary: Q has given them a lot to think about. Now what will they decide to do about it? My version of an epilogue to "All Good Things." P/C.
1. Chapter 1

The experience with Q had affected him deeply. If it hadn't been obvious in the pensive way he'd related the entire affair to the senior staff in the morning briefing, it would have been so immediately when he arrived that evening, for the first time any of them could recall, to join their weekly poker game. "You were always welcome," Deanna had told him warmly, which was the truth, though something he appeared never to have believed until then.

They were all reflective in their own ways, as his experience had shown them a possible future without any of the closeness they shared now, on nights like these. And she was troubled by the medical scan that had revealed his parietal lobe defect, the smallest indication that what he'd seen had any grounding in this timeline's reality. But they'd chosen for now to focus on enjoying the evening, and stayed up late until Deanna finally called it.

As the group split up to head back to their respective quarters, he escorted her back to her door, walking, as always, just a bit too close. He was pleasantly relaxed as they chatted amiably. And she, still glowing from the laughter and camaraderie of the evening, enjoyed the little sparks that jumped between them at the occasional brushing of their shoulders, the light touch of his hand on her back. As they exchanged an affectionate kiss goodnight, she imagined she felt him linger the smallest instant longer than could be considered chaste.

Moments like this seemed to be happening more often of late, and while she wasn't entirely sure what to make of it, she realized it didn't frighten her the way it might have a few months earlier, after Kesprytt. Then, the intimacy of being able to read each other's thoughts, with decades of carefully guarded emotions unexpectedly laid bare, had been so powerful that she simply couldn't process it all right away. She hadn't meant to hurt him by retreating so soon afterward—she'd thought she could accept the revelation of the depth of his feelings for her—but at the moment of decision she had flinched. Now, though, they seemed to be finding their way back to the way they'd been before, with the new intimacy folded into the layers of their old, very complex relationship. They were so comfortable together that her residual fear seemed to be receding, incrementally, like the tide.

That didn't mean it didn't occasionally come crashing back, though, as she tried to sort through her own feelings and what she actually wanted, because even after all this time she still felt less than certain about that….All she did know for certain was that right this second, she wasn't ready to step away from him.

"Good night, Jean-Luc." Eyes locked with his, Beverly Crusher made no move to actually pass through her open door. His hazel eyes always looked a bit darker against the red of his uniform, she reflected.

"Sleep well." Jean-Luc Picard was still smiling at her with that smile he seemed to reserve only for her. Combined with his low baritone, and his failure to move even a step away himself, her stomach was starting to flutter. She tried to tell herself to get a grip. They hadn't even had anything to drink tonight. _Hmm_. No, if she was still trying to sort things out in her own mind, then it would definitely be a bad idea to invite him in for a glass of wine now. Definitely.

She leaned back against the doorframe, not trusting herself right now if she were to invite him in, but also not wanting him to leave, as he obviously didn't want to either. She settled for continuing the conversation. "Thanks….You know, I'm glad you came tonight, Jean-Luc. Everyone was."

"Thank you. I am too. It's been a wonderful evening." He paused, and she caught a flicker of amusement. "I don't know if I should come back again, though."

She was confused. "Why would you not?"

"I simply wonder if there's any purpose to it, if Will Riker is going to sweep every hand like that." At her little snicker in reply, he added, "And I'm surprised you keep going back for more as well."

Beverly grinned. "It was just an off night for me," she said dismissively. "Usually I can give Will much more of a run for his money. Although me being on my game wouldn't help _your_ position any."

"I don't believe it." She arched an eyebrow at him and he explained casually, "You're easier to read than you think, Doctor." Still with that little smile, he folded his arms across his chest, without moving back an inch. To the contrary, he was still a bit too close for plausible deniability and his nearness was becoming...distracting. She swallowed, trying to suppress the incriminating blush threatening to rise over her collar.

"Why, Captain, I do believe that's a challenge." She crossed her own arms in an unconscious mirror of his pose. "Now you definitely have to show up next week. I'll be more than happy to demonstrate the limits of your ability to read everyone's tells."

"I didn't claim to read everyone's," he corrected with a glimmer in his eyes. "Just yours."

If she had been drinking that wine she'd been thinking about, she would have choked on it. Teasing was common enough in the banter between them, but it was usually her domain, and she wasn't used to being on the receiving end. At all. Attempting too late to recapture a semblance of the poker face she was usually quite practiced at, she flashed a smile at him. "I think you're bluffing, Jean-Luc."

Picard didn't miss a nuance of her reaction, raising an eyebrow and holding her gaze with an intensity that left her feeling completely exposed. "I suppose we'll have to see next time, won't we?" He waited a beat and then suggested in a murmur, "Unless you'd like to try again before next Tuesday."

"I might be able to find some time," she managed, her voice barely above a whisper. The pull to collapse the space between them was becoming so strong she wouldn't have been surprised to discover a singularity forming there.

"I look forward to playing, then." After one more long moment, during which she fleetingly suspected he was going to lean in and actually kiss her in the open corridor, he finally relented and took a half step backward. She had to fight an almost magnetic pull to move with him. "In the meantime, Beverly, if you don't have any plans at all, would you join me for breakfast tomorrow?"

If she hadn't just been thrown off her game, she would have instinctively teased him in reply, something about being too busy with all her other breakfast dates to be sure of her schedule. After all, since when did he need to be so formal in extending an invitation to their standing custom of at least three years running now? But the best she could do at the moment was nod. "Of course."

Picard smiled with some quiet satisfaction and repeated his earlier goodbye. "Wonderful, I'll see you then. Sleep well." Now he did step away, but not without one last graze of her shoulder as he headed down the corridor.

"Good night," she finally whispered. She backed ungracefully into her quarters and let out a breath as the door slid shut in front of her. _Well, damn._ Whatever Q had put into their nonexistent drinks had made for a much more interesting evening than she'd expected. Jean-Luc _had_ to have been just as affected as she was just now, but he hadn't given anything away. It appeared that playing poker with him _(that was all they were talking about, right?)_ would prove more of a challenge than she'd thought...for reasons she'd never considered. As she ordered a glass of ice water from the replicator, she wondered what would happen tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: Thank you all for the kind encouragement! Hope you enjoy the rest of the story. I wrote the ending a couple of different ways but this was the best one I could visualize...

* * *

The next morning, Beverly Crusher uncharacteristically found herself hesitating outside the captain's door before pressing the chime. She exhaled nervously. They dined together more often than not—what was the matter with her? _It's only Jean-Luc_. The simplicity of that thought, simultaneously reassuring and anxiety-inducing, didn't help settle the question of what she should be feeling right now or why things suddenly seemed different than they had even the day before. _Good grief, you're a mess, Beverly._ At his familiar, "Come," she pulled her sky blue lab coat closer around her and stepped inside, hoping a normal breakfast would help settle her nerves.

"Good morning. I trust you slept well?" Picard said pleasantly as he finished setting out the croissants on his table and pouring their coffee.

At the innocuous question, she found herself exceedingly glad that the implants from Kesprytt were long since removed. She had—unfairly, she conceded to herself now—teased him about some of his dreams that night around the fire. She knew she'd be in trouble if he were privy to any of hers last night. In any event, she wasn't planning to let her composure slip this morning. She settled into her usual seat across from him. "Yes, thanks. And you?"

"It was a bit later night than I'm accustomed to, but yes."

Beverly smiled back at him, sipping carefully at her hot drink. Coffee was definitely what she needed right now. "The caffeine should help, then."

As they began to eat, she found herself studying Jean-Luc more carefully. Everything did seem normal enough, without much of a hint of how he'd acted last night, and also without the pensiveness that had gripped him earlier in the day. Maybe all of it was tied to the misadventure with Q... She wondered how he was really dealing with the experience, what had changed, what might change in the future. Would he really be afflicted with such a difficult illness as Irumodic Syndrome? Even though she understood the possibility was remote, it upset her even to think about it. Would they really all drift apart? She knew it wasn't realistic to think they would all—or even just the two of them—continue on the _Enterprise_ together indefinitely, but it was sad to contemplate the inevitable day when one of them would have to leave. The _Enterprise_ senior staff was her, and Wesley's, extended family in a way that all of their real family aside from Nana had barely ever had the chance to be. And Jean-Luc's place in her life, though hard to define with precision, was at least as close as that. In recent weeks she _thought_ she had been coming to increasing acceptance of her own desires to develop a deeper relationship with him—but if the future was as uncertain as he'd seen, was it worth the risk of losing what they had now?

"Beverly." The sound of her name startled her out her reverie and she looked up to find him paused in the middle of buttering a croissant, regarding her quizzically.

"Hmm?"

"You're staring," Picard said, with mild amusement.

"Sorry," she apologized, kicking herself mentally at being caught daydreaming when she'd planned to keep better control of her thoughts today. She took a sip from her mug and set it down. "I was just thinking."

"About Q?"

"Yes," she said, gratefully seizing on the topic. "Your experience has given me a lot to think about."

He resumed buttering and took a bite of his croissant, chewing thoughtfully. "Indeed. And it's not even clear how to proceed after an experience like this, which isn't shared by anyone else. What _does_ one do the morning after one has been tossed around through time by an omnipotent being in order to save humanity?"

Her mouth quirked. She was glad he at least had a sense of humor about it. "Speaking strictly as your physician, I'd have to say my medical advice would be for you to have breakfast with a friend and talk it over," she suggested, finishing the last of her croissant.

Picard returned her smile appreciatively. "Sound advice," he agreed. "I'm glad you thought of it." He took a swallow of his coffee and then, glancing down the table at her place setting, rose to refill her mug from the pot resting near him. At his wordless invitation, she picked up the cup and moved with him over to the couch. "I've been reflecting on things quite a bit. For now, I think Q's main effect has been to motivate me to make a few changes in my life to ensure that much of the future I saw never comes to pass."

"I don't know. I might enjoy becoming a captain, myself," she said with a mischievous look. "Captain Crusher does have a certain ring to it."

Something undefinable passed over his features at that, but he said merely, "You'd make an excellent captain, Beverly, but of course that's not exactly what I meant."

Beverly smiled. "I know. You'd just like for us all to stay friends." He nodded. _Or something more, with me? _The thought flitted across her mind and suddenly she felt sure she had part of the answer to the question of his forwardness the night before. "Truthfully, it was upsetting to hear the way you said we had all drifted apart," she admitted. "I don't like the idea that we, at least, wouldn't be in touch. Somehow I've always had the notion that you and I would remain closer than that."

She saw an unexpected tension grip him. "Beverly, I didn't share everything from what Q showed me yesterday," he said slowly.

Her brows knitted in confusion. "What do you mean?"

His expression softened and he glanced up at her tentatively. "What I didn't say was that was that in the future time period, you and I had been married."

"Married?" Beverly blinked in surprise. Then she stopped. "Had been?"

He seemed to brace himself. "And divorced."

_Oh._ She was very grateful he had chosen not to share these particular details with the entire group yesterday. She struggled to keep her voice even. "How—?"

"I don't know. The Irumodic Syndrome made it difficult to remember what had happened. But it was partly because of that 'history,' not just our past friendship, that you helped me on the _Pasteur_ in that time period."

"I see," she said, although she didn't, not really. "So...I guess it was amicable."

That earned a faint smile from him. "Evidently." He ran a hand over his smooth head and leaned back against the couch. "I've obviously been preoccupied by that since."

"I can understand that." She gripped her coffee mug with both hands in front of her, as if it were a shield, as she was keenly aware of how close he was sitting. Rather than meet his eyes, she stared into the mug and focused on inhaling the rich aroma. Set aside the idea of marrying Jean-Luc for a moment—although that was a lot by itself, as whenever she did muse on the possibility of them starting a romantic relationship, marriage somehow still seemed, ironically, too far in the future. But setting that aside—why in a million years would she ever _divorce_ him? Or worse—the other way around?

He was bothered by the same thing. "It's hard for me to fathom what could have driven us apart to that extent."

"My temper," she offered.

He looked over at her in surprise and then smiled when he saw the self-deprecating smirk that had sprung to her lips. "My rigidity," he countered.

"My argumentativeness."

"My stubbornness."

"Probably your stubbornness," she agreed.

"Now hold on," he protested with good humor. She had succeeded in lifting some of his tension, she saw, and she smiled at him over the lip of her coffee mug, though she didn't lower it. "Whatever it was, the outcome is something that I want to ensure never happens."

"But then last night. Why did you—" Beverly stopped. She _knew_ she hadn't misread him the night before. She knew their attraction was so strong as to have an almost visible manifestation when they were close to each other. But why would he encourage that attraction in the face of this kind of knowledge of what might happen in the future?

He understood what she was asking. "I don't want to lose my friendship with this crew." He tugged on his uniform tunic and shifted to face her on the couch, meeting her gaze with an almost hesitant, but earnest, expression. "But most of all I don't want to lose you."

Beverly held onto her coffee mug tightly to keep her hands from trembling. "You aren't going to lose me, Jean-Luc," she assured him. She forced a smile to her lips. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"I don't want to lose the opportunity for us to grow closer, either." Very gently, Picard reached out to take the mug from her. He placed it on the table and then wrapped her hands in his. _Oh_…his hands were even warmer and more steadying than the coffee mug. She decided she approved of the trade. "Beverly, you know how I feel about you and I believe I know how _you_ feel—at least, how you felt a few months ago. I've respected your wishes and I will continue to do so...but I can't imagine that I'm wrong about how this attraction between us has only continued to grow." He gave a crooked smile. "Unless I really _can't_ read you as well as I thought."

She wanted to give him a hard time about the particular way he'd gone about confirming that, but she certainly couldn't deny it. Instead she concentrated on the soothing motion of his thumbs tracing circles on the backs of her hands.

"Didn't that vision of the future make you afraid?" Her voice was very soft. Hadn't she just been thinking, the night before, that she was losing her fear? But of all the nebulous things she had been afraid of, the fear that their relationship might not _last_ had been low on the list. She knew they were good for each other. She just wasn't sure her heart could handle loving him as deeply as Jack—or even more, in some ways, given the many more years they'd had to develop this intimacy—if she could someday lose him forever in the same way. Now she also had to worry they might drive each other away. Something clenched in her chest. Maybe it was safest just to stay as they were.

"No," he said firmly. "Beverly, I believe the future is something not written in stone. I know that the timeline I saw will never occur and ours is already changed. And I also know that ever since Kesprytt, I haven't been afraid any longer. Of you, of my feelings, of our history—or of anything that might come up along the way." He raised an eyebrow in amusement. "If your temper hasn't driven me away after all this time, do you really think it could in the future?"

In spite of herself, she laughed, feeling the knot of fear start to relax again in the face of his assurance. She looked into his eyes and saw so much affection there that it took her breath away.

Slowly, inexorably, he drew closer, and his voice dropped to be even quieter. "Despite everything I have tried to do along the way to deny it, Beverly, I am still in love with you. I'm not afraid. And I would do anything to help you not be afraid, either." He leaned in and kissed her, and she felt a warm rush plunge through her body as she closed her eyes and returned the kiss. He smelled of coffee and clean soap and good things, and his lips were soft and firm at the same time, and he felt _so good_, and he was right, wasn't he, that maybe they didn't need to be afraid after all?

She felt a momentary sense of déjà vu to be sitting on his couch, holding hands, exchanging a kiss...only this time they were in the brightness of ship's morning instead of the dim glow of a candlelit evening...and this time, when she pulled away, it was not to disappoint him, but to offer him a hopeful smile.

"I do love you, Jean-Luc," she admitted softly. "I just don't want to be hurt again. And I don't want to hurt you, either." She took a deep breath. "I suppose neither of us can make any promises about what will happen in the future, but...I trust you. And maybe that's good enough to try."

He closed his eyes, swallowed, squeezed her hands tightly...and she could feel the shuddering wave of relief rolling off of him. How long he'd been waiting for this, she realized. They were best friends and it could have been, had been, enough—except for these achingly strong currents of emotion running just beneath the surface that meant they often had to tread so _carefully_. She reached out to caress the side of his face, studying the familiar lines, reflecting with fondness that there might be a few more of them now than the first time they'd met decades ago...and he had only grown more attractive to her over that time. Another rush of desire flooded her and she pulled him in closer for another lingering kiss, deeper this time. "I love you," she repeated, trying out the words again and finding that it wasn't nearly as frightening to say them aloud as she'd once imagined.

"Then let's give this a try," he agreed with a smile, holding her gaze intently for a long moment. She basked in this new, joyful warmth radiating from him that was somehow so familiar as to be old and comfortable already.

Suddenly she saw a regretful expression pass over his features and she searched his face in minor concern. "What is it?"

Picard frowned and sank back with a sigh, still rubbing a thumb over her hand. "As much as I am utterly loath to leave you, Beverly, we both have to be on duty...fifteen minutes ago."

"Well, that _is _unfortunate," she teased, then offered helpfully, "Maybe you should have planned this conversation to happen over dinner instead of breakfast."

He shot her a mock exasperated look. "Next time I'll remember that," he said. "Of course, we could also have dinner in _addition_ to breakfast, if you'd like to come back later."

"Why, that sounds lovely, thanks," she said graciously. She ran a hand through her long red hair, tucking it behind one ear. "Though there is one other thing, Jean-Luc."

"What's that?" he murmured, holding out a hand to help her up as they stood.

"I believe you also owe me a date to play poker. I'll choose what we play."

He pulled her close to him and slid an arm around her waist under her lab coat, and when they both felt an involuntary shiver pass through her, he smiled knowingly. "Didn't I already prove that I can read you?"

At least she had the satisfaction now of confirming he was equally affected by their proximity, as she heard the slight hoarseness in his voice that gave him away. "You were cheating."

"I was," he acknowledged. He leaned in to kiss her again and his eyes were filled with contentment when he pulled back. "Very well, Beverly. You choose the game and the time... and I'll be there."

End 2/2


End file.
